


Stormy Waters

by techsupportgay (themonokumafiles)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe- Sirens, Multi, Trans Female Pidge | Katie Holt, allura and keith are sirens, its a little more complicated than that but thats Spoiler Territory, pidge hunk lance and shiro are human, pidge uses they pronouns so i'm tagging that to make sure yall know what i'm about, there are two types of sirens in this world and those are alteans and galra
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-20 22:46:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11344662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themonokumafiles/pseuds/techsupportgay
Summary: Lance, Hunk, and Pidge are three wide-eyed teenagers lucky enough to find work on the Voltron, a ship owned by Takashi Shirogane. The only catch is that their course goes straight through what happens to be siren territory, and a sudden attack during the journey ends with Shiro kidnapped, the crew thrown into chaos- and a furious, purple-eyed siren trapped in the ship's hold. Convincing him to help them is not going to be easy, keeping him alive on a ship full of vengeful sailors even less so, but it may be their only chance of getting Shiro back, especially when the Altean princess who took him had her own important reasons for doing so.That's how it is. You go out looking for a seafaring adventure, and you end up bridging the years-old gap between humans and sirens and maybe falling in love with one of them in the process. All in a day's work, right?





	1. in which Shiro makes a mistake

**Author's Note:**

> i guess you could say this time period is kind of modern, but at the same time, it's pretty technologically restricted. it's something to do with the existence of sirens preventing most communication across the ocean, like power cables or telephone wires. basically there's electricity and modern-type clothing, but nothing like the internet.  
> but yall didn't come to read about anachronism, you came for the story, so here you go ~
> 
> always remember, comments are appreciated and treasured

The three of them had a shared dream.

“Someday we'll have a ship,” Lance always said, “and we'll go sailing across the high seas, fighting pirates and sirens and discovering new land.”

They were crowded into a tiny room, all they could afford from this inn. Pidge had the pillow end of the bed, curled up with their journal by the headboard, while Lance slept the other way with his head by the foot. Hunk was on the floor, using Pidge’s folded sweatshirt as a pillow.

“I’ll be the captain,” Lance recited, “and I’ll steer the ship. Pidge will be our lookout and navigator, and they’ll have the crows’ nest all to themselves. And Hunk will be the best cook on any ship on the water.”

“And we’ll gather a trusty crew and brave storms and meet new people in foreign countries and all that jazz,” volunteered Pidge, in the tone of someone reciting a familiar mantra.

“That we will,” answered Lance, folding his hands behind his head and laying back to stare at the cracked ceiling, while Pidge rolled over to turn off the bedside lamp.

“And I’ll keep you two from getting yourselves killed,” Hunk muttered from the floor, sounding like he was falling asleep. He probably was. They had a long day ahead of them tomorrow. It was late May, and the ships at the Garrison port would be hiring their crew hands for the summer season. That was where Hunk, Lance, and Pidge hoped to find work, and why they were currently crammed into one room at this tiny inn- it was only two blocks down from where the streets met the port docks at the waterfront. If they could get jobs on one of the ships, they might someday be able to rack up enough experience and money to afford a vessel of their own. It would be small, but it would be theirs.

Lance knew that their dream was shared by almost every teenager in the country. Declaring that you planned to someday own a ship and live on the sea was like saying that you were going to be a famous stage actor. It was possible, but it took a level of dedication and talent that most people just didn’t have. Sirens lived in the ocean, and they weren’t afraid to show humans who that ocean belonged to. Pidge’s father had been taken by a siren on a trip with their older brother, something they had confided to him and Hunk one night as they huddled around a campfire. They’d looked down into the coals and explained how their brother had returned alone in the family’s small boat, white-faced and clinging to the tiller as though his life depended on it. Neither Hunk nor Lance had really known what to say to a thing like that.

Once, before any of them had been born, disappearances were rare, and the relationship between sirens and humans had been something almost like allyship. But that had changed around the time their parents would have been children. Now there were only warning stories told to curious children to scare them away from the beaches, stories of sharp eyes and sharper teeth and songs that made you forget your name and forgo your own safety, reaching to pull the siren closer even as their claws plunged into your chest. His mother had told him and his siblings plenty of those stories when they were younger, even the bloody ones. He wondered what she would say if she knew he was willingly heading to sea now.

Something jabbed Lance in the spine, jolting him painfully awake, and he twisted around on the bed to see Pidge fast asleep. The little bastard had kicked him in the back.

With a new bruise forming, Lance turned over and tried to get some sleep.

 

~

 

The next morning, Lance’s spirits were significantly lowered.

They’d known it would be hard to find work at such a young age, but there were _barely_ any ships willing to hire a couple of teenagers. And if they did hire teenagers, they rarely had three spots open. Lance had suggested lying about their ages, but that would never have worked for Pidge, who was fifteen and couldn't pass for any older.

“Don’t feel bad, Lance,” said Pidge, elbowing him gently in the side as they walked down the street. Lance just stared gloomily at each long dock they passed, with its rows of ships, almost all of whom were full of workers already.

“It’s really hard to find work even for full-grown adults,” added Hunk. “Plus, I know it isn’t close to the same thing, but there’s always town. We could get jobs there, rent a room, and try again the next time a ship docks.”

“I know,” Lance said with a long, dramatic sigh. “I was just hoping, you know?”

“We know,” Hunk reassured him. “We were too.”

Pidge stared at the cobblestone street, sighed, and said nothing.

Suddenly, someone in the crowd shot out a hand and grabbed Pidge by the shoulder. They shrieked loudly, caught completely off guard, and Hunk and Lance wheeled around, ready to face off with a potential thief or kidnapper.

The man in front of them didn't _look_ like a thief or kidnapper. He had a scar on his nose and, surprisingly, a metal arm, but he was young- he couldn’t have been more than ten years their senior. Lance, however, did not feel like taking any chances.

“What’s your name?” the man asked Pidge, sounding desperate. “Please, I need to know.”

“Get off me!” yelped Pidge, wrenching their arm free. “Pidge, my name is Pidge Gunderson, is that what you wanted? Leave me the fuck alone!”

The man visibly wilted. Apparently, he had been expecting a different name. He also seemed to realize what he had just done, scaring some random teenager in the street, and his face colored as though embarrassed.

“What are you doing grabbing our friend?” Hunk said, in the deepest voice he could manage. He stepped between the man and Pidge, who scowled as threateningly as they could while standing five feet tall.

The man raised his hands in a placating gesture. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I thought she was someone else.”

“It’s _they,_ ” Pidge informed him.

“Sorry,” the man repeated. “I thought they were someone else. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Pidge glared at him some more, looking like a bird with its feathers ruffled.

“How do we know you weren't trying to steal their bag or something?” Lance sniffed, unwilling to let down his guard.

“Look, I promise I don’t have any ill intentions,” the man said, looking just a little insulted. “I thought I saw someone I haven’t seen in a long time, and I lost my head. I apologize.”

Hunk was a lot more forgiving than Lance.

“Alright,” he said after a minute, offering one hand. “I’m Hunk, and that’s Lance. You already met Pidge.”

“What are you, crazy?” Lance hissed. “Don’t tell him our _names!_ ”

“I think he might be telling the truth, though,” Pidge whispered, nudging him with their elbow. Lance shot the little traitor a glare, but sighed. Clearly he was in the minority here.

The man paused, then shook Hunk’s hand. “My name is Shiro, captain of the _Voltron,”_ he introduced himself.

Suddenly, Lance thought maybe he _could_ forget about the whole incident after all.

“What was that?” asked Pidge, metaphorical ears perking up. “You’re a captain?”

Shiro looked over at them. “Yes, of the _Voltron._ It’s a transport ship.” He pointed with one thumb over his shoulder. “It’s docked down that way.”

“Do you need any crew members?” Lance burst out. He couldn’t help himself. He needed to know.

Shiro blinked, looking back at Pidge.

“Aren’t you a little young to be working on a ship?” he asked them.

“Maybe,” they replied. “I have my reasons.”

Shiro didn't push further.

“I don’t really need any more workers right now,” he said, “especially not a couple of teens, not where we’re going.” He paused. “But... I suppose I do owe you for scaring you like that.”

Glancing at Pidge, he added, “And I guess I’m just being sentimental, but you _do_ look like someone I used to be good friends with. Are you sure your name was Gunderson?”

“Last I checked, it was,” Pidge said sarcastically. Hunk nudged them with an elbow, a reminder that Shiro was their only chance of work on the ships.

“We’d be good workers,” Lance assured him, throwing an arm around Hunk’s shoulders and giving his best clean-faced-youth smile. “You won’t regret hiring us!”

“Seriously,” Pidge said. “We’d, like, scrub the bathroom. With our toothbrushes. We’re desperate.”

“Okay, maybe not toothbrushes? That’s unsanitary,” Hunk said, weakly holding up a finger. Lance jabbed him with an elbow.

“But the metaphor still stands!” Hunk added quickly.

Shiro deliberated, then sighed.

“Nobody else is going to take you on this late in the week,” he said after a minute. “Come on. We’ll find you a spot on the _Voltron.”_

“Are you serious?” Lance was on cloud fucking nine right now, and he guessed Pidge and Hunk were, too.

“Oh my god,” said Hunk, sounding like he would cry. “I- thank you, sir!”

Shiro blinked. “You don't have to call me sir.”

“Alright then! Lead the way, captain!” cheered Pidge, energized by the thought of their first real progress so far.

The captain and his three new crew members made their way across the dock, toward where a black-painted ship stood waiting to depart.

 

~

 

Life on the _Voltron_ was going to be okay.

Lance, Pidge, and Hunk were the youngest members of the crew, and while they were largely ignored by the adults on the ship, that was fine by them. Shiro assigned them to jobs quickly- scrubbing dishes, checking the cargo hold for rats, whatever needed doing at the moment. Lance knew that if they proved themselves good workers, they might be promoted to more important tasks on the ship, and his blood practically sang at that thought. Shiro even paid them a low but satisfactory amount each, to be officially earned when they reached port in whatever distant city they were sailing to.

Their accommodations were better too- a hammock for each of them by the door of the living quarters, and some faded but soft blankets piled inside each one.

On the third day of their stay on the ship, the _Voltron_ left port.  

It was afternoon, maybe three, when Hunk and Lance had some time between jobs and spent it laying in their hammocks, and Hunk said into the lazy silence, “What does this ship do, anyway?”

Lance frowned, chewing on his bottom lip. He didn’t know. “Didn’t Shiro say it was a...transport ship, I think?”

“Yeah, but he didn’t say if the ship actually transports anything,” Hunk pointed out.

“What makes you think it doesn’t?”

“Well,” Hunk confided, rolling over to face his best friend, “yesterday the first mate gave me an itinerary to check that no supplies are missing, and guess what? We only have enough provisions to last the crew the whole journey. We don't have any extra cargo. So what exactly is our goal if we aren't transporting?”

Lance didn't have an answer for that.

 

~

 

“What did you say?” Shiro turned his head enough to see Lance over his shoulder, not taking his hands off the ship’s helm.

“I said, can I ask what this ship really does?” Lance repeated. It wasn't really his place to ask, he was aware of that, and yet he needed to know.

Shiro paused.

“No, you can’t, Lance. I’m sorry, not right now.”

“What?” Lance asked, confused. “Why-”

“I said not right now,” Shiro repeated, and gave him a look that reminded him of his father when Lance backtalked him.

Lance did not push the matter further.

 

~

 

On the eighth day at sea, they found out what the ship did.

Someone knocked hurriedly at the door to the sleeping quarters in the early hours of the morning, causing groaning and complaints from the crew members.

A woman opened the door and hurried in, one of the people Lance had seen climbing the rigging on the day they’d joined the crew. She held a box against one hip.

“The navigator says we’re entering siren territory,” she announced, making Lance’s heart pound faster.

Sirens. Real, live sirens. It was another step closer to the adventure he’d been dreaming of.

He shot a glance at Pidge. Their face was white, and their hands trembled at their sides, but they put on an expression of determination as soon as they noticed Lance looking at them.

“Now come get your earplugs, unless you fancy yourself a trip overboard,” the woman ordered them. The other crew members climbed out of their hammocks and lined up obediently to receive a pair of wax earplugs from the box.

Pidge and Hunk took theirs and put them in no problem, but when Lance stepped up to take his, the woman stopped him with a hand to his chest.

“Are you Lance?” she asked, squinting down at him.

He nodded.

“Don’t take any earplugs. Captain Shiro wants you up on deck.”

Lance looked back at Hunk and Pidge, who shared his bewildered look.

“Don’t make the captain wait! Get up there,” the woman scolded him, but her tone was gentle, something almost like pity.

So he did.

 

~

 

Shiro looked relieved to see Lance when the boy approached him on deck.

“Come with me,” he said, before Lance had a chance to ask him what the fuck was happening, and steered Lance across the deck with one hand on his shoulder. Towards the helm.

“Um, sir? Captain?” Lance asked after a minute.

Shiro stopped. “What is it?”

“Why don't I get any earplugs?”

“That's a very good question, Lance,” Shiro answered. “Because I need you to steer.”

“...steer what?”

“Lance.” They were in front of the helm. “You’re in charge of steering the ship.”

Lance’s heart practically jumped into his throat.

“Why me?” he asked, turning to face Shiro. “I mean...don't you want someone older? More experienced?”

Shiro sighed. “Ideally, yes, but this is siren territory and I can’t do that. You're strong enough to steer the ship, but you're young enough and small enough that you won’t seriously injure yourself trying to escape the ropes.”

“...ropes?” Lance asked, dreading the answer.

“I’m going to tie you to the wheel,” Shiro answered apologetically. “You can't wear earplugs, so that you’ll be able to hear me tell you what direction to go in.”

Lance swallowed hard. It was almost too much. His first encounter with sirens, and he was going to have to face them tied up, with nothing to protect his ears. Like Odysseus.

Well, Odysseus was a hero, right? And that’s what Lance wanted to be.

He squared his shoulders, determined.

“You wanted to know what this ship really does,” Shiro told him, putting a hand on his shoulder like a proud teacher. “Now you’ll get to find out.”

Yes. He would.

 

~

 

Ten minutes later, Lance’s wrists were bound to the helm. The crew members were bustling about, preparing for whatever might happen in siren territory, oddly quietly since they all had earplugs in. Every so often he got a look of sympathy from someone, and it made him wonder how many times the ship had done this before, and who had been picked previously for the same job he was doing now.

Shiro had no earplugs, either. Shiro was tied to the mast. And, well, if Lance was looking for Odysseus parallels, that was it. He wondered if Shiro’s goal was the same, to gain some kind of treasured knowledge from facing a siren and surviving it.

He wondered if he would gain anything like that.

The ship rocked suddenly, throwing Lance a little off balance. He looked up to the sky uncertainly- it was a deep gray.

It seemed like everyone had paused, waiting to see what would happen next.

“Everyone get inside,” Shiro said loudly. The crew member closest to him heard him, and told it to the person beside her, and the word spread quickly. They didn’t need to be told twice to shut themselves safely in the lower decks- it seemed like they had all done this more than once.

Lance caught sight of Hunk and Pidge holding hands so as not to lose each other in the crowd, and he prayed that they made it inside safely, before-

Before what happened? Lance wasn’t sure what to expect. Would he hear the singing first, or would they climb up onto the deck before they opened their mouths? How many would there be? He didn’t know.

“Shiro?” His own voice sounded weak to his ears. “Am I going to die?”

“No,” said Shiro immediately from somewhere in front of him, though Lance couldn’t see him at the mast with the wheel blocking his view. “No, I’m not going to let you die. It’s me they want. They shouldn't bother with you.”

Lance had no idea what that meant; but he was really feeling like he should just wait to ask later.

They sailed on in silence. A wave rocked the boat again, and Lance struggled to keep his footing.

“Lance,” Shiro said, “steer thirty degrees starboard.”

Lance obediently steered them thirty degrees to the right. The ship passed a jagged outcropping of rock.

Another wave rocked the ship, and Lance was starting to wonder…

...if maybe it wasn't waves.

Just as the thought passed his mind, something caught his eye.

A hand. It was a fucking hand grabbing onto the railing. From the outside of the ship.

“Shiro.” Lance’s voice was choked, terrified.

“Did you see something?” Shiro asked from below, tied to the mast facing the other way and unable to see Lance up by the helm.

Lance watched as the owner of the hand pulled itself up onto the railing and perched there. It was a boy, a teenager like him, raven-haired and light-skinned with purple eyes. He caught sight of Lance at the helm and smiled. There were entirely too many teeth in his mouth, all of them razor sharp.

This was a siren. This was what had terrorized sailors for years, had taken Pidge’s father and traumatized their brother. This was what his mother had warned him about since he’d been in diapers.

He was the most beautiful thing Lance had ever seen.

The siren slid off the railing and stalked towards him with slow, deliberate steps. He was dressed in a white shift that reached just above his knees, and his feet were bare. At least he was dressed, Lance reasoned.

He locked eyes with the siren again, and learned a new lesson- sirens’ eyes weren’t as captivating as their voices, but they were just as dangerous.

The siren’s eyes were purple, but that didn’t cover it all. They were the color of the sky after the sun had just set, or maybe one of the violet starfish that Lance had liked to pull out of tidepools as a young child. Staring into them felt like they were bottomless, just endless fathoms of deep purple, and Lance felt like he was about to fall in at any moment. His head swam.

He opened his mouth to answer Shiro. Before he could speak, the siren let out a low hum, scrambling his thoughts enough to throw him off.

Lance shook his head violently, attempting to clear it, but the siren was much closer to him than he had been a minute ago. He was so close that Lance could have reached out and touched him if not for the ropes keeping his hands trapped by the wheel. But he didn’t have to worry- the siren closed the distance between them first.

“Don’t speak,” he whispered, reaching out to brush his thumb across Lance’s lower lip, and Lance gasped, because fuck, those purple eyes were beautiful, but the siren’s touch sent sparks dancing along his skin, and his _voice-_

It took him a moment to realize that the siren was humming, a low, quiet note that threw his brain out of focus. A spark of conscience returned to him, and he wrenched at the knots around his wrists, attempting to pull away from the siren’s touch (although part of him wondered why). His efforts were in vain, however.

The siren laughed at him softly, and Lance gave up. He wondered how long the siren would toy with him before he decided to kill him outright.

“Lance?” he heard Shiro calling. “Lance, are you alright? Please answer me!”

The siren turned his head, cast a glance down at the deck below. He turned back to Lance, put his hand over his mouth to keep him quiet, and called, “He’s preoccupied at the moment!”

Far, far away, Lance heard Shiro swear.

The siren stepped around the helm gently, circling around behind Lance and stepping closer, pressing his chest to Lance’s back. Lance struggled not to lean backward.

The siren leaned forward, his breath tickling the short hairs on Lance’s neck, and hummed directly into his ear. Lance’s knees almost buckled. Almost. They really hadn't been lying about sirens’ voices. The song this one was humming didn’t seem to be one with words, but it told him things anyway, that this boy would love him, that he could make Lance feel like nobody ever had before. Lance didn't doubt any of it, even as he fought to keep his head.

“You’re a pretty human,” the siren said, sliding one hand down Lance’s arm. “Why don't you tell me your name?”

No, he was not going to tell the siren his name, he was not going to give in, he-

“My name is Lance.” It burst out of him. He really couldn't help it.

“Good boy,” the siren purred, stepping around to his field of vision again, and fuck, fuck, Lance was _learning_ some things about himself today, because that affected him more than anything else so far.

“What’s- what’s your name?” he managed to say through the fog in his head. If he was going to die like this, he at least wanted to put a name to the thing that killed him.

The siren blinked, pausing, like Lance had managed to surprise him.

“You can call me Keith,” he said after a moment, and smiled with too many teeth again.

Before Lance could react, Keith ducked under his right arm, still tied to the helm, and insinuated himself between Lance and the wheel.

Lance cursed mentally. Keith was right there, between his arms, and literally all he had to do was lean forward. Once that occurred to him, he had to seriously fight the desire to immediately pin the siren down. It didn't help that Keith was looking at him through half-closed eyes like he expected Lance to do exactly that.

The boat rocked again, and Keith turned to the side, eyes focused on the water below.

“What is it?” Lance asked, finding he was better able to think without the siren’s attention directed on him.

“Nothing for you to worry about,” Keith replied instantly, and began to sing.

It wasn't a hum like before, it was a real, open vocalization, and everything that wasn't Keith began to fade and slide away from Lance at an alarming rate, and one that he already couldn’t bring himself to care about.

The siren took hold of his shirt collar and reeled him in, pressing their lips together.

Lance was lost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey just to clarify- pidge is still trying to figure out what pronouns they're comfortable with and is currently using they, but they're definitely a trans girl. just so yall know.


	2. in which Hunk performs an impressive football tackle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know it's been a while since the first chapter and pretty much all of that was spent trying to overcome writer's block. this chapter isn't as long as i would have liked, but if i didn't update soon i might never have finished it.   
> also, i felt like hunk was a little overlooked in chapter one, so this chapter centers on him! please leave a comment or kudos if you enjoy!

“This is such a bad idea,” Hunk whispered to himself, although he knew Pidge couldn’t hear him through the earplugs. They crouched in front of him, eyes scanning the deck as they peered through the doorway to the kitchens.

“Can you see them?” Hunk asked them. When they didn’t reply, he nudged their shoulder and asked the question again so they could see his lips.

“Nothing,” they replied. “I have a really bad feeling about this.”

The ship kept rocking, which was normal since they were going through a lot of waves, but every time they jolted he swore it was something heavier than water hitting the side of the boat. Like the feet of a siren, clinging for dear life as it worked its way up the salt-soaked wood boards.

Pidge turned to face Hunk, their lips pressed together. “It’s no good, I can't see them from here. We need to go out there.”

Hunk felt his stomach drop, and not just because a particularly large wave rocked the ship at that very moment.

“We are  _ not  _ prepared to fight sirens,” he reminded them.

Pidge glared. “I don’t care. I’m not going out there to find the ropes cut and Lance and Shiro gone. I know you don’t want that either.”

Hunk didn’t, which is why he let Pidge pull him out the door and slam it shut.

It was starting to rain, and they picked their way across the deck carefully. 

Pidge said something, but Hunk couldn’t read their lips. It was too hard to see.

They tugged his sleeve and pointed to the upper deck, where the ship’s helm was. Lance would be up there. If he was still there. 

Hunk shook his head, hard. No. None of that.

He gritted his teeth and headed for the latter to the upper deck. Pidge grabbed his arm when the ship rocked again, and his rubber boots slid alarmingly on the deck floor, but they made it to the ladder.

Hunk grabbed the bottom rung, the metal cold and wet under his palm, and wiped a wet fringe of hair away from his forehead. The earplug in his right ear fell out when he did. Hunk quickly grabbed it and made to shove it back in, then paused.

He’d heard something. Someone talking.

He cupped one hand around his ear, trying to make it out. It  _ was  _ someone talking. A boy.

It was not Lance. Or Shiro.

Hunk had heard the phrase “the blood ran cold in their veins” before, but now he understood what it meant. He turned to Pidge.

“Go get help,” he mouthed silently.

They stared at him, the look on their face saying they knew all too well what was going on here.

“Pidge,  _ go!”  _ he repeated, and without another word they turned and sprinted across the deck, back towards the kitchens. 

The rest of the crew were holed up belowdecks. Pidge would have to get down there and convince a group of terrified, superstitious sailors to head willingly into a confrontation with sirens. And that was if they even got let in, considering they and Hunk had broken the rules by sneaking out to check on Lance in the first place.

So it was up to him, then. Hunk grabbed the bottom rung again and pulled himself up before his brain could shut itself down completely with panic.

The siren didn’t hear him coming. Their back was to Hunk when he reached the helm, and by then it was raining heavily enough to mask the sounds of his arrival.

Lance wasn't dead, at least he didn’t look it, but he was slumped over the wheel in a way that made Hunk’s heart skip a couple of beats. 

And the ropes around his wrists were cut. That was another thing. 

The siren himself was busy cutting the last one. He had a knife, or maybe just a really sharp shell (who knew what sirens used as cutting implements?), but whatever it was sawed through the last rope as Hunk watched.

The siren straightened and reached for Lance’s shoulder, and Hunk’s brain kicked back into overdrive.

_ What are you doing? Do something! _

So he did. Hunk did the first thing that came to mind. 

He launched himself at the siren.

The two of them hit the deck with a force that knocked his breath from his lungs.

The second the siren realized he was being attacked, he screamed, long and loud. Hunk had never before heard the scream of a siren, and after today he decided he never wanted to hear it again. It was by far the worst noise he had ever heard, and it drilled right through his earplugs like the world's worst microphone feedback. 

The siren kicked and thrashed, still screaming, and despite the searing pain in his ears Hunk forced him to the ground and planted an elbow on his chest. 

Movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he looked up to see Lance sink to the ground, hands over his ears. Hunk realized how much worse the sound must be with no earplugs.

A moment later, he heard muffled shouting, and the deck was suddenly swarming with crew members. Someone pulled Hunk away from the siren, and he sat down hard on the deck, breathing heavily and wiping rain-soaked hair out of his eyes. 

He looked up, just to confirm Lance was still there. The other boy sat leaning against the railing, looking none the worse for wear but pretty tired.

Suddenly Pidge was in his face, shaking his shoulders. They motioned frantically for Hunk to take the earplugs out, and when he did they were still almost impossible to hear over the sounds of shouting and people running all over the deck.

“Pidge, I can’t hear you!” he had to shout, and strained to hear them when they repeated themself.

“It’s Shiro. Shiro is gone!”

 

~

“What do you mean he’s  _ gone?”  _ Lance looked from Pidge to Hunk and back again from the bed, stricken.

Pidge sighed and leaned against the doorframe of the sickbay. “I mean Shiro’s gone. The ropes around the mast were cut, and he wasn’t there when they went to check on him. He just vanished during the storm.”

“How?” Lance asked, with an expression on his face that said he already knew.

He made to get out of bed. Hunk rushed to stop him.

“That’s really not a good idea, Lance,” he insisted. “The doctor told us to make you stay in bed.” None of them had seen much of the ship’s doctor during their time on the ship until now. She was a short, brown-skinned woman with micro braided hair who had made it clear to Pidge and Hunk that Lance was “absolutely  _ not  _ to leave that bed without my permission.”

“Fuck that,” Lance declared, swinging his feet off the side of the bed. “I didn’t hit my head or anything. I’m fine.”

Pidge chewed on their bottom lip. “But we really don’t know if there are any lasting effects of, you know.”

It was true. They really didn’t have anything to go on in that department. Encountering a siren was common for a lot of people back home, but none of the three of them had ever known anyone who had faced off against one  _ alone,  _ let alone actually been seduced by one, and come back alive. Hunk really tried not to think about what might have happened to Lance if he’d arrived on the deck even ten seconds later.

Lance scowled at them. “Okay. I don’t feel any sudden, burning desire to proclaim my love for a siren and throw myself over the ship’s railing, if  _ that’s _ what you’re implying. Actually, it’s more of a sudden, burning desire to beat the shit out of him.”

“You might just get that opportunity,” said Pidge, sounding like they were only half-joking. “Hunk pretty much tackled him to the ground earlier, and it gave the crew enough time to capture him before he could escape. He’s locked in the brig, I think.”

Then their face split into a grin. “But you should have seen it! Hunk was like a professional football player or something. It was great!”

Lance turned to stare at Hunk in what looked like awe, and Hunk shifted a little on the balls of his feet, uncomfortable. Having Lance look at him like he was some kind of hero was admittedly really, really nice, but to be completely honest, he was harboring some mixed feelings about his fight with the siren.

Hunk had never actually  _ seen  _ a siren before yesterday. Of course he’d heard the stories told about them, just like Pidge and Lance and every other kid who grew up around the same time they had, but the picture he’d had in his head didn’t really match up to the real thing. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting to see- sharp claws and jagged teeth? Sickly, sun-deprived skin, maybe? 

What he had  _ not  _ been expecting was a boy who looked just like an average sixteen-year-old, albeit a very pretty one. He’d brought it up to Pidge later, after Lance had been taken to the infirmary, when they were lying in their hammocks in the dorms. 

“He looked so normal, Pidge. Don’t you think that’s weird?” he’d asked, and Pidge had stared at the floor for a minute and then sighed.

“Yeah, I do.” They caught his eye. “But you can’t let that fool you, Hunk. I’ve heard sirens can change their shape. It’s most likely part of their hunting method.”

That made sense, but it didn’t make his weird feeling go away.

He suddenly snapped out of his thoughts as he realized Pidge was talking to him.

“One of us is obviously gonna have to stay with Lance and make sure he rests,” they said. 

“I’m right here, you know,” Lance said, looking distinctly offended.

Pidge ignored him. “I’ll go first if you want.”

“That’s okay,” Hunk said, and offered them a sunny smile.

 

~

 

“Hey, man, are you okay?” Lance asked, after Pidge had gone down the corridor and out of sight.

Hunk sat down on the end of his bed. “What do you mean?”

“You barely said anything while Pidge was here,” Lance said, kicking off the blankets and sitting up criss-cross on the bed. “I don’t know, is something bothering you?”

Hunk hadn’t dared mention his thoughts about the siren to anybody besides Pidge. The other crewmates probably would have assumed he was under a spell and locked him in the dorms, just in case. But if anybody would understand what he was thinking, it would be Lance, right?

He explained to Lance the same thing he’d told Pidge about the siren looking just like a human, and when he was done, Lance nodded slowly.

“I get it,” he said. “It’s not as easy to hate someone who looks like you.”

The two boys sat in silence for a few moments. Then Lance let out a long sigh and turned so his back was to the wall, sliding over to rest his head on Hunk’s shoulder.

“I feel like it was all my fault,” he said quietly, and Hunk looked down at him, although Lance’s hair was in his face.

“Like what was?”

“Shiro,” Lance said. “I feel like if I hadn’t gotten distracted by the siren I could have...I don’t know, done something to stop Shiro from getting taken.”

“But you were tied to the wheel-”

“I know,” Lance cut him off. “I know it’s irrational, I know there’s no way I could have done anything even if the siren wasn’t there, but that still doesn’t help.” There was a strange tone to his voice, and after a moment Hunk realized he was on the verge of tears.

“Do you...want a hug or something?” he asked, a little unsure what to do in this situation.

Lance scoffed and mock-punched him on the shoulder as he sat up. “I’m not five.”

There was a pause. 

“...but yeah, I do,” he admitted.

Hunk lifted one arm so Lance could situate himself next to him, arms wrapped around his torso. They stayed like that for a long time, not talking.

 

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lance that's gay
> 
> (next chapter will hopefully be up soon!)


	3. in which Keith regrets some life choices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (posts this 3 months late) uh writer's block
> 
> y'all probably thought this was a dead fic but i was actually thinking a lot abt this fic while i was gone and i've got a rough outline of the rest of the plot written. it DOES eventually go somewhere, i promise  
> hopefully the next chapter is out soon!

_ Lance heard siren song. _

_ He and Hunk stood alone on the deck of the ship. The mast was behind them- they were in the exact place Lance had last seen Shiro. _

_ And there was song echoing in his ears, which was more important than anything else. It was familiar, like he had heard it before, and Lance knew he could probably place it if he just listened for another minute. _

_ But after another minute, he couldn't remember what he'd been trying to figure out in the first place. The song in his head echoed sweetly, it captivated, and it just seemed to sweep away any other thoughts. There were no words, just a smooth, ringing vocalization, in a low-pitched voice that sounded almost similar to his own. _

_ Hunk squeezed Lance’s hand, and he turned to look at the other boy, although it was somewhat difficult to make his eyes focus. Hunk looked awestruck, an expression Lance had a feeling was mirrored on his own face.  _

_ They realized what they had to do at the same time.  _

_ Lance’s hands gripped the railing of the deck, and as he lifted one leg and positioned his foot on the rail, it occurred to him that this wasn't right. What were they about to do? They’d jump, and then...something would happen and they’d find the source of that voice. That was good enough for him. Hunk had apparently decided the same thing. He already had both feet on the railing. _

_ Something at the back of his mind still insisted something was gravely wrong, but Lance paid it no mind. He balanced himself on the railing, and grasped Hunk’s hand in his own, and that beautiful song was ringing in their ears, and together they j u  m   p    e     d      - _

Lance gasped and sat bolt upright in his hammock.

“Dude,” he heard Hunk say from the darkness nearby. “I had the  _ weirdest  _ dream.”

_ That was my line,  _ Lance thought, but did not say. Instead, he swung his legs over the side of the hammock and declared, “That’s it. I’m going down to the brig right the hell now.”

“What?” Hunk sat up, rubbing his eyes. “It’s like two A.M.!”

“I don’t give a shit  _ what _ time it is,” Lance said, setting his jaw. “I’m not putting up with this dream bullshit. Be back soon.” Before Hunk could say anything else, he stood up and marched down the rows of sleeping crew members, headed for the door.

~

Keith shifted around on the bed- if it could even be called a bed when it was basically just a few boards nailed together with a sheet piled on top- and made an attempt to get comfortable. He had only been out of the water for a day at the most, but his skin was already fully dry. Patches of irritated skin had shown up on his knees and were slowly spreading down to his ankles, and Keith tried not to scratch at them as he lay on his back and stared at the ceiling.

Stupid. So stupid.  _ Don’t spend longer up there than you need to,  _ Allura had warned him, and what had he done? He’d gotten distracted by some stupid sentry boy and now he was imprisoned, shut away from the seawater, away from the fresh air, and away from Shiro, who he’d seen Allura pull over the side of the ship just minutes before the boy with the broad shoulders had ambushed him on the deck and he’d been captured.

At least the main goal of their mission had succeeded- getting Shiro off the ship. Not that it mattered to Keith, now. He probably wouldn't even see the light of day again until the human ship arrived at port and they dragged him to shore to sell him or kill him or whatever humans did with the sirens they so rarely managed to capture. He would spend weeks down here, counting down the days to his inevitable demise- unless he could somehow escape.

At that exact moment, Keith heard footsteps.

He closed his eyes and barely cracked one open, pretending to sleep. A minute later, someone stormed in, looking furious and brandishing a flashlight like it was a weapon. 

It was the sentry. The  _ same one  _ from the deck earlier. 

Was he really this stupid? 

“Are you honestly fucking sleeping right now?” Lance spat, and Keith opened his eyes as if he were just now waking up.

The angered expression on Lance’s face was completely at odds with the last time they’d seen each other. 

(A memory came into Keith’s head unbidden, the image of this boy with unfocused eyes and a sweet smile, waiting patiently while Keith cut the rope around his left wrist and using that newfound freedom only to trail his fingers across Keith’s jawline, and no,  _ nope,  _ not thinking about that now, because Keith knew he was gay, but this was a human and if he started having feelings like this it was just going to get him killed faster.)

“Well, I’m not sleeping  _ now _ ,” he muttered lowly, which prompted an incredulous sputter.

“What are you doing down here?” Keith asked, sitting up and leaning back against the wall of the cell as he crossed his arms.

“Is that it?” Lance said, faltering, and for a minute his meaning wasn't clear until he added, “you’re not going to, like, sing to me again or anything?”

“That’s not  _ all _ we do,” Keith told him, hoping his pounding heartbeat wasn’t loud enough to hear from across the room. “Besides, that stunt your friend pulled up there left me pretty burned out. I can’t sing again so soon.”

Which wasn’t a lie, not technically. When he’d been tackled from behind, he’d been screaming as loud as he possibly could, and the fight had left his throat feeling raw and his body drained of energy. But Keith was positive he could probably muster up a  _ little  _ bit more song. Maybe. There was no way he could sing like normal, but he wouldn’t need to do that if he could get the other boy to listen to him talk long enough. 

Keith hated capturing humans, he always had- it felt shameful to do it, no matter how lovely this particular human might look when you sang to him- but right now his natural abilities were the only defense available, since his knife had been taken. 

And, a very small part of him admitted, he kind of wanted Lance to smile at him like that again. 

It was worth a try if it would get him off this wretched ship, anyway.

~

Lance clenched his fists, trying to ignore the frustration boiling in his chest.

“You,” he hissed, pointing, “need to get out of my fucking head.”

Keith- he was pretty sure that was the name the siren had given him- had the audacity to look bored. “I need to do what?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t  _ know!”  _ Like he hadn’t been down here the whole time, influencing him and Hunk or something, making them have weird dreams. What else could it have been? “I know that freaky dream was your fault.”

The siren stared back at him, unimpressed. “Sirens don’t have any power over dreams.”

“You’re lying.” As if Lance would really believe he was telling the truth. 

(If he wasn’t lying, Lance was probably totally screwed, but that didn't matter because he was  _ definitely  _ lying.)

“Maybe I am. It’s not like I can prove it to you, after all.” The corners of Keith’s mouth twisted upward into a smirk. “Or maybe your subconscious is just trying to tell you something.”

“Yeah? Like what?” Lance isn’t entirely sure that that was what he had meant to say, but whatever.

“You’ll have to figure that one out for yourself,” Keith said.

His eyes narrowed. “What  _ are  _ you doing down here, anyway? Was it really just to complain to me about your wet dream?”

“Oh, my god, shut the fuck up,” Lance blurted, because  _ wow  _ Keith definitely had the wrong idea there and  _ wow  _ he definitely wasn’t getting some pretty vivid images in his head. “It wasn’t that kind of dream.”

Keith’s expression said he didn’t believe Lance, but he didn’t push it.

“You came all the way down here at, what, three in the morning, just to yell at me?” he said, eyebrows raised. “Aren’t you tired?”

“I got plenty of sleep earlier, thanks to you,” Lance said, and Keith winced dramatically.

“I guess I walked into that one,” he said.

Suddenly Lance realized he  _ did _ have a question he needed to know the answer to. 

“Is Shiro dead?” he asked suddenly. 

The siren started and glared at him through the bars. “What? No! Of course he’s not dead, why would you think that?”

Was he for real? “Why would I- sirens  _ drown people,  _ why the hell would I not think that?”

Keith stared at him, expression unreadable, before he broke eye contact and looked down at the ground. 

“I don’t do that,” he said quietly. “And the siren who took Shiro doesn’t, either.”

“Yeah, of course you don’t,” said Lance. “I don’t know what I expected, asking you.” His eyes were actually starting to sting at the corners, and he turned away to wipe the tears furiously with the end of his sleeve.

There was a moment of silence behind him before the wooden cot creaked and Keith began to talk, sounding a little closer than he had before. He must have been standing by the bars now.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed to cry, you know. I know it’s been a long day.”

“Shut up,” Lance muttered, but his heart wasn’t really in it now.

“No, seriously. You miss Shiro, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” He hadn’t gotten to know Shiro that well, considering it had been about a week since they left port, but Shiro just gave off this fatherly vibe, like you could tell him all your problems and he would give you a hug and offer just the right advice to make you feel better. Not to mention, Lance  _ owed  _ him, all three of their group did, for offering them a place on a ship when nobody else would, and now Lance might never get to make it up to him.  Another tear squeezed out of his tightly shut eyes and rolled down his cheek.

“I miss Shiro, too,” said Keith. 

“That’s ridiculous.” Lance scrubbed the offending tear away again. “How could you miss him? You don't fucking know him.”

“And you do?” 

Lance didn’t have an answer.

“I used to know Shiro,” Keith muttered, but Lance didn’t bother asking from where, because he knew he wouldn't get the truth. Keith was probably lying, anyway. 

“Hey. Lance.” A hand nudged at his elbow, and Lance lifted his gaze to meet Keith’s. 

“Why are you really down here?” the siren asked.

What kind of question was that? “I told you. Had a dream.” Lance’s body was starting to remind him that it was only four A.M. and he hadn’t slept enough. Against his will, he yawned.

Keith didn’t look tired at all. Did sirens sleep? Lance wasn’t sure. Maybe they were like vampires and they just got all their energy from eating humans.

“You’re tired,” Keith said, his head tilted a little. 

“No shit, I’m tired,” muttered Lance, leaning his head against the bars. “I slept, like, five hours total.”

“Then you should probably sleep some more,” said the siren, and Lance noticed he hadn’t broken eye contact in a couple of minutes now. In fact, he was positively sure those purple eyes were  _ glowing. _ He couldn’t have looked away if he tried.

_ Oh, Lance, you dumb shit, you’re going to be so mad when you get sober again,  _ said a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Pidge. Lance told it to shut up. He had more important things to think about.

Like Keith taking both of Lance’s hands in his own. Like Keith letting out a soft hum that wasn’t nearly as loud as the song he’d sang earlier, but which made Lance’s head swim just the same. Like Keith leaning in close and saying,  _ sleep for me, okay? _

Okay. 

_ (sure absolutely anything)  _

Okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lance can never catch a break, can he...   
> somewhere, pidge is sighing dramatically


	4. in which Pidge makes a pact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunk Worries(TM), Pidge smacks a bitch, and Lance.exe has stopped working.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol so uh SURPRISE this fic isn't dead?  
> in all honesty i always intended to keep going with this, it just. took me a really fucking long time i'm sorry  
> i had the entire story planned out, but couldn’t quite figure out how to write between the events i had already come up with. i recently had some inspiration though, and i may be splitting this story into a series with one fic for each story arc  
> anyway uh enjoy this short-ish chapter and hopefully i'll be able to have the next chapter up much sooner than the last?

“Keep an eye on that one,” Dr. Neguse told Hunk, and pressed a pair of earplugs into his hand. She nodded towards the far end of the room, where Keith lay quietly, fiddling with the strap that tied him to the bed.

The doctor studied the siren with a neutral expression for a moment, and then turned to Hunk. “I will check on your friend. He should be waking up soon.”

Hunk nodded quietly in acknowledgment. Lance was still unconscious, but the doctor had said there was nothing else physically wrong with him, so Hunk was trying to keep a lid on his anxiety. Keyword- trying.

After about five minutes, some very loud, stomping footsteps in the corridor made everyone in the sick bay jump a little. Even Keith looked up instead of staring apathetically at the ceiling.

Pidge stormed in, their small stature doing nothing to minimize the look of absolute rage on their face. They ignored Hunk’s attempt to waylay them, instead marching straight over to the siren’s bedside. Before Dr. Neguse could say anything about the intruder to her sick bay, Pidge drew back their hand and slapped Keith across the face. 

The siren jolted upright, mouth opening in a silent yelp. One hand went to his reddening cheek and he shot Pidge a venomous glare, which they ignored, turning their back to him..

“Well,” they announced to Dr. Neguse and Hunk, “his voice is actually gone this time. Question answered.”

Dr. Neguse glanced at the siren and then back at Pidge. After a moment, she shrugged and tilted her head to one side.

“You won’t be needing your earplugs, then,” she said, and turned back to the sleeping form of Lance in the other bed.

“Did you come up with that on the spot?” said Hunk to Pidge quietly.

They snorted. “Pretty much. I just really wanted to slap him.”

Keith glared at Pidge again. They glared back. Hunk just shifted uncomfortably.

“Is Lance gonna be okay?” Pidge asked, without breaking their eye contact.

“Doctor said he should be waking up soon,” Hunk told them.

Pidge nodded grimly.

After a moment or two, Dr. Neguse interrupted the human-siren staring contest.

“Your friend is waking up,” she said, and Hunk and Pidge rushed over to Lance’s bedside as  he started stirring.

 

~

 

“Leave me alone to die,” Lance said ten minutes later, lay facedown, and put his pillow over his head.

Pidge scowled and sat down on top of his back. Lance grumbled something muffled into the pillow, but didn’t move.

“He’s just embarrassed,” Pidge informed the doctor. “He’ll come around. Eventually.” 

Dr. Neguse had other duties to attend to aboard the ship, so with Keith confirmed to be voiceless and Lance confirmed to be unharmed, she left Hunk and Pidge to watch over the sick bay and bustled off down the corridor.

Lance mumbled something else, and Hunk crouched down to lift one edge of the pillow. 

“Wanna run that by me again, buddy?” he asked, and Lance shifted to face him.

“He said he knew Shiro,” Lance said quietly.

“Who?”

Lance did not answer.

A scoff came from Pidge, still sitting on top of Lance. They bent down to see under the pillow as well. 

“You mean Keith?” they asked. “Lance, don’t worry about it. He was lying to you. That’s what sirens  _ do. _ ”

Something large and soft hit Pidge’s head and Hunk’s left shoulder, and Pidge leaned back, spluttering. In lieu of being able to spit insults of his own, Keith had hurled his pillow across the room.

“Yeah, fuck you too,” said Pidge heatedly, and gave him the finger.

Keith raised his hand and did what looked like the ‘come hither’ motion, but from the expression on his face was probably something like the siren version of flipping the bird. After giving one last glare, the siren turned to face the window and lay down on his now pillow-less bed, pulling the blanket over him as best he could with the bed-strap in the way.

Just then, a bell sounded from somewhere on the upper deck.

“That’s the morning work bell,” said Pidge, and fixed Hunk with their best glare. “And you got to sit with Lance last time he landed his ass in here, so I’m gonna stay today.”

Hunk noticed their gaze dart briefly behind him to the siren. Obviously they wanted to be here themself to keep Lance company in case of trouble.

“Okay,” he said obligingly, clapping one hand on their shoulder. “I’ll see you guys later.”

Pidge nodded, and even made a small smile.

Of course Hunk was worried as he left the infirmary, but Pidge was his second-best friend apart from Lance, and he knew he could trust them to be alright until he came back after morning work with their lunch. So as he headed down the hallway, he did his best to put it out of his mind.

  
  


~

 

“Hey.”

He pretended to be asleep.

“Hey, you.”

_ Just ignore it. They’ll get bored. _

A sharp finger poked him hard in the side. 

“You motherfucker. I know you’re not sleeping.”

Finally, Keith gave up and rolled over, opening one eye to look at the human crouched by his cot. 

“I wanna talk to you.”

Keith blinked, surprised. He’d expected Pidge just wanted to harass him. He wouldn’t have really blamed them; after all, they believed he’d tried to kill one of their closest friends twice, and even if he’d been able to talk, it wasn’t like there was anything he could say to convince them otherwise. 

Speaking of which-

He glared at Pidge and gestured to his mouth with one hand.  _ I can’t talk, dumbass.  _

“Well, duh, of course, but-” Pidge straightened up and paused in thought.

“Do you know sign language?” they asked after a moment, doing a series of gestures along with it; Keith assumed it was sign language and could guess what she was saying from context, but didn’t know the language regardless. He knew there had been one or two deaf soldiers back home who used sign language to talk, but he’d never really known them well enough to learn it, and they probably hadn’t been using the correct variation anyway.

Whatever version Pidge was using, he certainly didn’t know it. He shook his head.

Pidge sighed and pulled out a pencil and a notepad from their back pocket.

“Okay, I’m not about to play a game of goddamn charades with you, so  _ please  _ tell me you can write or something,” they said, and held the pad out to Keith.

He took the pencil and examined it. The tip was blunted almost to the point of preventing the user from being able to write with it, but it’s not like he expected to be handed a sharp pencil anyway. 

He  _ did  _ know how to write. Well, of course he knew the writing system the sirens he grew up with had used, but he’d been taught to write this language, too, and he’d kept trying to practice it.

A memory came to mind; Shiro, smiling as he took the stick Keith had found for him.    
_ Come on, I’ll teach you to write English. It’s not like there’s much else I can do to pass the time- we can draw letters in the sand until they call you for evening roll. _

Keith shook his head, pushing the image aside, and took the notepad from Pidge.

 

~

 

_ What do you want,  _ said the notepad when the siren handed it back. His handwriting was terrible, but barely legible. If you squinted. Still, this could work.

Pidge glanced over their shoulder back at Lance. He’d finally taken the pillow off of his head and appeared to be sleeping again, so they turned back to Keith, who didn’t look happy to be disturbed.

They held out the notepad to him again and took a deep breath, figuring out how best to explain the theory forming in their head.

“Alright. So. Humans don’t know a lot about sirens, but I’ve been lucky enough to get a direct eyewitness recollection of an attack, as well as studied every bit of information I could get. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that sirens do not leave survivors if they have a choice.

“My br- my eyewitness- he barely escaped with his life. The siren left him, but it was not for lack of trying. And everything else I’ve been able to study has only confirmed this fact- since the time around thirty-five years ago when the siren-human war started, there has never been a time when a survivor was purposely left untaken.

“But you did.”

Pidge paused, gauging Keith’s reaction. The siren’s expression hadn’t changed, but they got the impression that he was actually listening, so they continued.

“A week ago, on the deck, you tried to take Lance. Even when you could have escaped-” Keith winced a little, seeming almost embarrassed “-you still took the time to do that. And that fits with what I know about sirens. But what  _ doesn’t  _ fit is your behavior last night.

“We found Lance unconscious in your cell, lying on your cot. You made him help you unlock the door, but then you… just left. You didn’t take him with you, even though he would have gone if you asked him to, in the state he was in. And you didn’t kill him, even though he wouldn’t have screamed. You knew all that, and yet you left him alive and not even hurt.”

Pidge fixed Keith with their best interrogation face. 

“So what I want to know is…  _ why?” _

Keith stared sullenly down at the notepad. He didn’t lift the pencil.

Pidge sighed and crossed their arms, shifting their weight.

“Look, I know I can’t force you to tell me anything. But what happened yesterday makes me think that.... I don’t know, that maybe your intentions aren’t entirely malicious. And whether that’s true or not, there’s clearly something more going on here than just a simple siren attack. I need to know what it is.”

Keith glared, his expression wary.

“I know you can’t hate humans as much as you pretend to,” Pidge continued. “You would have left Lance dead if that were true. 

“And…” They ran a hand through their hair, trying to figure out how to phrase this. “Listen, I know they’re planning to kill you when we get to port.”

Keith didn’t move, but his eyes widened, just a little bit.

“But first,” Pidge continued, “they’re going to do anything they can to make you tell them where Shiro was taken. And I do mean anything.

“I’ve hated sirens for a long time. They took away someone I cared about. But  _ if  _ I’m right about your intentions, then there’s no way I can just leave you to die. But I need you to tell me first.”

Pidge finished. They couldn’t shake the feeling that putting their trust in this siren was foolish and unbelievably stupid, but they had to try at least once.

Keith stared back, expression unreadable.

After about half a minute, he looked down at the notepad and started to write.

_ I don’t know how to write the words I would need to tell you. _

The pencil paused, then kept moving.

_ I’ll make you a deal. _

Pidge shook their head. “You think I’m stupid?”

_ I don’t know how to write the words I need, but I know how to say them. _

Pidge glared at the notepad, feeling like they knew what was coming.

_ Soon I’ll heal, and I’ll have my voice back. But when they find out they’re going to put me back in that cell. Probably with more guards. I’ll never get out. _

_ So my deal is this. If you don't let them know I can speak again, I’ll tell you the truth. And I won't sing. But you will just have to believe that. _

_ That’s all I can give you. Take or leave it. _

Keith laid down the pencil and looked up expectantly.

Pidge bit their lip.

_ [God, please don’t let me regret this.] _

They raised one hand before they could lose their nerve.

“Deal.”

Keith grasped their hand, and they shook on it solemnly.

 

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how DID matt survive the siren attack? We Just Don't Know


End file.
